Only the fools know what it means
by muchoblidged
Summary: There is a reason he gave them apartments on opposite sides of Florence, and it isn't so Italy can take scenic bicycle trips after dark. Pairing/s/: GermanyxItaly


_Not totally sure if this should be T, but I'll take my chances. I suppose a warning is in order:_

_This fic has some sexy bits in it. Yup. You've been warned.  
_

Florence, Italy; late 1930s/early 1940s.

* * *

The Florentine night was stifling. A thick humidity had descended upon the city, and though the night brought a form of relief, the air was still swollen with unspent rain. Outside the balcony doors, above the narrow sun-bleached streets, the clouds mumbled amongst themselves, gray and full.

In the dark, the sirens moaned.

Germany dozed in his bed, nodding off occasionally only to be woken moments later by the relentless warning shrieks, or the rumble of engines. He thought he might just be finding sleep when...

"_Germany! Germany! Wake up! Wake up please!_"

As a battle-hardened soldier, Germany took this command to heart and was bolt upright in moments, the sheets of his bed in hand, until he looked up.

"Italy." He let out a long sigh as the Italian dragged his bicycle through the doorway. "Why are you here?"

"I..." Italy jerked the bicycle through with a final decisive tug before turning to the man. "I got so scared! Ve," he looked down at the floor and shuffled back and forth, "the sirens...are really scary, Germany."

_The sirens..._

"They're here to help, Italy. They're just a warning -" He cut himself off as Italy turned back to his bicycle. "Did you...ride that all the way here?

Italy whirled around, glowing. "Si!" His smile turned into an almost comical frown as he added, "I was stopped twice by _squadristi_ for my papers."

Germany slicked back his damp bangs. "You're not supposed to be out when the sirens are on..." _You're not supposed to be on this side of Florence, either._

"But they're so scary, Germany! And besides..." His expression grew somber, "I never see you anymore."

Of course he never saw him. Germany was busy...he _made_ himself busy, because one lapse in thought, and his mind would be overrun by thoughts of _that_ Italian, and the rest of his day was good as gone. With a city between them, there was no distraction, no _temptation_... He would distance himself from the man, even in his own home.

"I'm sorry, Italy, but you have to go." Germany shifted and began to leave the bed.

"No!" Italy cried. He grabbed his flatcap and tossed it onto a couch. "I don't want to go, Germany! I want to stay here." His fingers drifted down his collarbone to pause at the first button of his dress shirt.

"I insist, Italy, you have to..." Germany cut himself off.

_What is he...?_

"I feel really lonely," Italy continued, staring at something far from the tiny apartment. The shirt, unbuttoned, fell open, revealing a worn gray-green tanktop and a scoop of Italy's well-tanned neckline, framed by the discolored edge of the undershirt. "There are lots of pretty girls here, and the food here is so tasty...but I...it's not the same without you, Germany." He stepped forward, peeling off his sweat-dampened clothing as he crossed the room.

"We're _friends_, no? So why can't I see you?"

_He can't be..._

Italy reached the bedside. Slowly, almost cautiously, he climbed onto the mattress, and straddled Germany.

"What are you doing?"

The Italian gave a warm laugh and nudged the hem of his tanktop up his abdomen. "Don't be silly, Germany. It's too hot to sleep like this."

The line of faded gray fabric edged ever upwards, slowly,_ too slowly_.

Germany placed his hands on Italy's chest. It was hot, hotter than the air around them even. He refused to look at the man as he ushered the tanktop over his head and dropped it off the side of the bed. His hands lingered on Italy's shoulders, awkward and unsure, until two warm hands cupped his jaw and pulled him close. He let his hands drop to Italy's waist as they kissed, but still didn't look at him.

As usual, he tasted sweet.

It took a moment for him to realize Italy was leading him down to the mattress, and he started at feeling of the still cool sheets meeting his back. Italy paused for a moment, and Germany's wandering eyes caught a crooked smile on his lips before they flickered to the side.

Quick, scalding touches at his waist, down his thighs as Italy tugged his shorts away, and more touches, moving inwards, as Italy scattered rushed kisses down his neck. Germany curled his fingers into the sobering chill beneath them. His fists turned the color of the off-yellow cotton they clenched as Italy's hand moved across his pelvis. He tipped his head back, and felt his lips part breathlessly...

Until Italy drew back.

Germany straightened, tried to compose himself. He sat up slightly and spread his fingers. His eyes followed an undulating fold next to him.

"Germany."

He was surprised, really, that Italy had come to his senses before he had. But it had to be stopped by someone, didn't it?

"Germany, please..."

His eyes jerked to Italy's stomach. He _couldn't_ look, couldn't check...

"Please," Italy's hands framed his face and tilted it up, "please...look at me." A sob, like a drowning man's gasp for breath, cut the room. _"Please_. Just look at me. If you want me to go, I will, but please..._look at me._"

Germany strained away halfheartedly. "...Don't go."

"Then _look at me!_" Italy cried, nearly hysterical.

The sirens moaned and moaned.

"Germany."

His entire body tensed as he turned, and he couldn't help his surprise to see Italy's face slick with tears.

Italy released him, only to wrap him in a too hot embrace. He nuzzled Germany's jaw with a fragile smile.

"_Danke_."

After the heat and retracing of still familiar territories, when the sheets were as hot as the rest of the room, the sirens quieted and the clouds opened up. The Florentine breeze carried a spray of rain through the window. Germany shifted his arm around Italy and the man curled tighter against him.

He wondered if he would ever resist.

* * *

Author's Note: Ahem, well then. This is what happens when I watch _Tea With Mussolini _while on a yaoi dry spell.

This is a songfic of sorts for Diana Kralls's _Temptation_. Tried to fit "Dutch pink and Italian blue" and "time is made from honey slow and sweet" in there. Yup. Even so, Skye Edwards' _Call Me_ and_ Feel Good Inc._ covers were my sountrack for this.


End file.
